Not Me
by Kajune
Summary: Death and Sam in the Cage during Appointment in Samarra.


**Title** : Not Me

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own any of the Characters of Supernatural.

 **Genre** : Angst

 **Warning** : OOCness.

 **Summary** : Death and Sam in the Cage during _Appointment in Samarra._

* * *

"No."

Sam's voice was shaky, his soul was a mess, its former light dimmed and held within it were years upon years of suffering, which would undoubtedly lead to mental trauma should the body reclaim it. Of course, this was Dean's wish, and Death had no place to question it.

A deal was a deal.

But a part of Death, the part that was all sympathetic and caring and was a direct result of being so close to life and watching so many souls part, from their homes, their memories and their loved ones, that part couldn't help but feel sorry for Sam and want to clutch onto the soul tighter, give it comfort and let it know that it was safe now.

Its torturer was...ah, Death remembered, currently being pinned to the wall of the Cage by the tip of Death's cane. He was struggling like mad, growling and cursing and demanding _his_ Sam back, his toy or his bitch yet Death actually had trouble hearing, he was so disinterested in the words of the archangel.

Still a child in comparison to him.

Death had his briefcase open and by his feet, ready to receive Sam's soul to ensure a safe journey back, but each time he made a move to do just that, Sam's soul uttered a faint...

"No."

It took four times for Death to realize Sam's wish was worth considering.

"What do you want, Sam?"

Death tried to ignore the brokenness he could feel upon the soul, the tears and aches and the sure-to-be burst of memories of endless torture. He would not be the same once topside, not even with Death's intervention, but he would at least live, and be where he and his brother always longed to be, by each other's side.

It was a fitting gift for the savior of the world.

Though Sam didn't seem to care, or realize, the value of this visit by the Horseman.

Even in its weakened state, the soul nudged against his fingers, pointing in the direction of Michael, who was sitting in the far corner, curled up like a ball, silent and rather peaceful and a huge contrast to his raging brother.

Death could tell Sam's mind was not focused on the archangel, but on the boy whose guise Michael was borrowing.

He had come for Sam, that was his deal with Dean Winchester, who had clearly chosen to abandon Adam in favor of his well-known brother, his _beloved_ brother. Death did not feel much sympathy, and merely took this task as an opportunity to teach Dean a lesson, but here he was, being beckoned to deny Dean's wish by the very person Dean wanted to save.

It was an ironic twist, yet a tragic one too.

If Sam didn't leave now, he would never be in a state where he could live normally again. Lucifer's wrath was a neverending volcano, constantly spewing hatred and eons-old resentment. Not even the more docile and sorrowful Michael could calm this powerful storm.

The fact that it was so impossible was what tore the brothers apart, until they no longer spoke to one another.

Death took a peak, gazed through the layers of flesh and bone and saw Adam's soul, surprisingly well-kept and still, despite the long tenure inside the Cage, it was as bright as the moon on a starless night.

He would need the vessel of course, if Adam was to live again.

"Are you sure?"

The soul seemed to think over its options, but it took less than a minute for Sam to decide without a shred of doubt that he wanted the Horseman to rescue Adam, not him.

Such a hero, to be self-sacrificing even while trapped in Hell.

Death marveled and admired Sam's bravery in a brief silence before he took a swing at Lucifer and promptly knocked the archangel to the floor, leaving him bleeding and growling and definitely hurt. Death took even steps towards Michael, whose eyes had been fixed on him since he arrived.

Unlike with the other three archangels, Death was on better terms with Michael, had lovable memories of intellectual talks and witty banter that would drive the absent God jealous.

He leaned down, eyes fixed on Michael's silver pair, and with Sam's soul still clutched tightly in his left hand, Death spoke the words that would, for certain, seal Sam's fate.

Forever.

"May I have that soul you're protecting?"

* * *

 **Owari**

* * *

 **Author's Note** : I noticed that there weren't many Death and Sam Winchester stories so I decided to write this. Hope you all liked it~


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